The Lament of the Spoons

I pack lunches for my kids when they simply must go to school. Sometimes including yogurt, or something like that for which they need a utensil, so like a good Father, I will pack them a plastic convenience spoon. And, to my despair:

The spoons go out but they never come back.
We have knives, we have forks, it’s just spoons that we lack.
We send them to school but they never return:
Have they been lost, broken, stolen or burned?
The spoons run away (though the dishes remain),
We search for our spoons high and low and in vain,
We’re seeking of spoons, and of spoons there are naught-
It’s a Martian invasion! A government plot!
Perhaps they live now on some tropical isles
Where bowls of hot soup can’t be found within miles,
Or maybe they’ve blossomed, their spirits uncorked:
They’ve met with a surgeon and now they’ve been sporked.
The spoons leave the house and the mystery stands,
Do they eat from our spoons in some far, distant lands?
Farewell to ye spoons and we’ll bid thee farewell,
We’ll see you no more (or we’ll see you in hell).

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About nitrovonborax

The Mighty Arthammer of von Borax strikes the Anvil of Universal Consciousness, forging Iconic Singularities of Metaphor. Nitro von Borax is widely recognized as the natural heir to the crumbling facade of an empire that Thomas Kinkade built with massmarket hack-retouched cottagey papscapes, which glow as though lit by pernicious chip-grease fires within and trigger pleasurable dissociative transport to the plebian viewer. Mr. von Borax, known to his discerning, sophisticated & politically progressive fans as "The Painter of Sprinkly Sparkles," pulls inspiration from Betty & Veronica BOTH, stolen travel brochures & comic books, Martin Denny & Italian Giallo Movies to visualize and manifest pure unfettered awesomeness for your astral excursions. His portfolio resonates at a frequency only bats can hear.

Posted on December 3, 2014, in Poems and Literary Peccadillos and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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